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 Feb 2018 SeaChel
Rachel Birdsong
sometimes
i don’t want you to know me

i want to walk past you on the street
raise my eyebrow and look at you
while we pass under the streetlight
and swing my hips
so that you turn around
and turn back to your friends
to whisper about me

i want our shoulders to accidentally touch
and i want you to feel your skin tingle
beneath the shirt you wore
--the one that is tight on your muscles--
hoping you would see me

i want you to wait for me by door frames
to walk me to class
and live for the moments i giggle at you

i want you to find my fears
and ache to protect me from them

i want our lips to touch
and i want yours to part
and breathe in
because you couldn’t have imagined
a first kiss
like that

i want you to be unable to stop thinking about me
keep my name on your tongue all day
until you dial my number
and call to talk to me

i don’t want you to know me
because i want you to fall in love with me
all over again
 Feb 2018 SeaChel
Rachel
The opposite of love, is indifference.
Not anger, aversion, or hate.
Accompanied by avoidant-detachment,
And a silence that never abates.

It can disguise itself in diffidence;
Depressed by misery, for score.
Sheltering who practice its persuasion,
But leaving its victim longing for more.

It looks like a promise that’s broken,
It sounds like the melody of a lie.
It tastes like a cocktail & bitters;
It feels like a passion that died.

You can’t see the damage from the outside;
The wounds that scar from within.
Until they manifest as an addiction,
Or any overt kind of sin.

Love faces the toughest of battles;
Love outshines even the sun.
Indifference regards nothing higher;
And indifference will perpetually run.
 Feb 2018 SeaChel
Ann P
You will
 Feb 2018 SeaChel
Ann P
The memories will be fading





The love will be evaporating






There will be no trace of him








And you will survive your first heartbreak









Just believe in yourself that








You are something without him










Because the only person who will never leave you is







That girl in the mirror
slowly          slowly
then in the space between   seconds

cerulean morning
shade of silence

my throat
or rather all of ours
on mute

raindrops
with their stop-start
arteries
on the window

it is an age
of invisible money
trickling into
strangers’ hands

burgundy bedsheets
box-sets

names that flicker
on and off
as if shouting them
across a lake
in high winds

twenty-five
a week before
the year of the dog

should be bounding
into things
with electric fingers

but they’re at work

and slowly          slowly

snooker’s on the box
Written: January 2018.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time for university - as such, changes are possible in the coming months. Feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
Funeral day
The death of my apathy
The people around me cried
Before and after
I couldn't shed a single tear
I couldn't feel anything
Except the cold of the graveyard
Tugging on my shirt
Simply numb at best
I hope my heart of stone
Breaks in this pile of soil
I throw upon your final rest
Am I broken, dead inside
Watching my own burial
From someone eles eyes
 Jan 2018 SeaChel
Dyana williams
You dont really know her
you dont know anything
not a thought that sans her brain
not the reason she screams in vain or,
why she carvs depression art into the black canvas
called her arms
you dont know the memories that cross her mind
dont say you know her if you dont know what
happens behind the fake smile



                                                                      Dyana Williams
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